


Two hearts entwined as one

by Themaagoo



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Dreams, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, One Shot, Prince! Logan, actually you know what i stand by this tagging p much, but like only in at most maybe 2 sentences each, fae prince, faery tale au, human? roman, i havent slept in like 20 hours so, ill check back in on this tomorrow and maybe fix this mess, other character appear in background, ughh i cant tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themaagoo/pseuds/Themaagoo
Summary: “No-one really knows anything about the fae. Some say that children wander into the forest at night, called by strange music, and when they’re returned they are changeling children with bright eyes and sharp teeth.” She smiles at roman, her own eyes glinting in the candle-light. Roman gasps with delight. she always ends her stories with the same warning everyone else in the village does. “Never go into the woods at night, and if you find it getting dark, make sure you follow the path straight out.”aka, Roman has the hots for a fae prince he only meets in his dreams
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Logince
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Two hearts entwined as one

**Author's Note:**

> me: yeah, i've got a few good ideas for this au, but it's just a snippet, it shouldn't run too long I'll be brief and oh fuck what do you mean it's been 3k words??

The village Roman grew up in was quiet. Isolated from the rest of the world, it sat in the wilderness, surrounded on all sides by the forest. The forest isn’t large, nor complicated. Simply… oddly shaped. As though space had been cleared out in the centre of it for their small village, or like it had been planted as some kind of protective circle. There are many stories of how the forest came to be, many people dismissing them as just that; stories. Roman knows better. But there is one thing everyone could agree on. Never go into the forest at night. Accounts of why vary from person to person, but there are a few things they agree on. People who enter the forest at night rarely come back, and those who do are changed.

“If you enter the forest at night, you will become hopelessly lost,” Roman’s mother used to tell him as she tucked him into bed. “Nobody quite knows why, but even the most experienced of travellers get lost in the darkness. The twilight turns their once familiar pathways twisted and foreign, the forest that ordinarily only took a few hours to traverse suddenly seeming to stretch on for eternity. They say there are faeries lurking in the woods, and they wait until the darkness to lure unsuspecting travellers in with promises of wealth and fortune”

“Faeries?” Roman whispered, eyes wide and his heart racing. “Is there a faery prince? Can they do magic?” his mother laughed.

“No-one really knows anything about the fae. Some say that children wander into the forest at night, called by strange music, and when they’re returned they are changeling children with bright eyes and sharp teeth.” She smiles at roman, her own eyes glinting in the candle-light. Roman gasps with delight. she always ends her stories with the same warning everyone else in the village does. “Never go into the woods at night, and if you find it getting dark, make sure you follow the path straight out.”

That night Roman dreams of a faery prince. In his dream, he carries a sword, a katana like his grandmother used to fight in the war. He feels the weight of a crown on his head, although he never sees his own reflection. His white clothes with a red sash billow in the breeze. The wind sounds as though it’s singing to him. he comes to the river, all that separates him from the forest. On the other end, he sees a boy. He doesn’t look like a faery prince, Roman thinks, but he knows he must be. The boy looks the same age as Roman, not like the ethereal immortality Roman had always imagined. He wears large frame glasses pushed right up against his eyelashes, his dark hair obscuring his eyes from view as it falls in his face. he’s scribbling something into a notebook as he sits on a rock next to the river.

“Greetings!” he calls out, waving his sword. The boy jumps, scrambling to his feet, and drops his book into the river as he does. Roman stifles a laugh, then feels bad, but the boy simply sighs and holds out a hand. The book rises to the surface, wrings itself out, and lands in the boys pocket, as though moved by unseen hands. Then, he flees.

Roman continues to see the boy in his dreams, night after night. Mostly Logan looks at him with distrust, keeping the distance between them. Roman doesn’t dare venture across the river and into the forest, but they both keep showing up. Roman can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s a force pulling the other boy here too.

He calls out every night, but the fae eyes his sword warily. Roman notices one night, and in the spur of the moment, tosses his sword into the water. It sinks with a splash, and the fae takes several steps back with wide eyes.

“It must be fate that we keep meeting!” Roman cries, spreading his hands wide. The fae boy regards him with a curious look.

“There is no such thing as fate.” An odd stance for a fae prince who he meets only in his dreams, he thinks, but he’s too caught up in the melody of the other boy's voice to linger on the thought for long. He would be a wonderful singer, he thinks. Roman can’t help but feel it’s as though he were meant to sing along to the song of the wind that swept him here so insistently.

“And yet we continue to meet,” Roman smirks. “What could this be if not for the will of the universe?” the fae regarded him with those piercing blue eyes, head slightly tilted.

“Perhaps it would be prudent to research this further,” he concedes.

The two boys continue to meet every night, and Roman knows it must be more than a dream. Even as the fae rebuffs his proclamations, he knows it to be nothing other than fate. Two hearts strung together stretching across eternity.

Over the weeks, Roman learns about nature in the forest, about the way the flowers bloom and the voices that whisper in the dead of night. About the moon, and how to always find your way back home. They stay on their sides of the river, but as the weeks turn to months, Roman can’t shake the longing to be on the other side. He doesn’t even know the fae’s name yet. Hasn’t given his own.

No-one knows quite what it means to give a fae your name, but he knows it isn’t to be done lightly. He wonders what it would mean to have a fae give you his name.

One day, for the first time, Logan isn’t there when Roman arrives, and he immediately feels panic seize him. Roman doesn’t even think about what he’s doing, simply wades into the river in an attempt to cross it. he knows it’s shallow enough for him to swim across without trouble. At least, it is in the daytime. Before he can even reach the other shore though, Logan is staring at him with mouth agape.

“You’re soaking,” he comments. “Why would you do that?”

“I wanted to see you,” Roman says simply as he sits shivering next to the boy. It’s the first time they touch, as the fae places a hand on his cold shoulder. Roman feels a flood of warmth through his body, and he leans into the touch. The boy stiffens but then envelops him. Roman is too lost in his own thoughts to notice when he becomes dry, but it’s as though the water had simply climbed off of him and rolled back into the river.

Despite everything, Roman can’t bring himself to regret his actions. He falls asleep in strong arms, the happiest he’s ever been. When he awakens he’s still in bed. He finds a single river rock in his pocket, a brilliant swirling blue colour.

After that, the other boy is always there before him, and as Roman approaches rocks rise up through the river bed, large and sturdy. He hops his way across them every night, although he still doesn’t quite enter the forest. The fae never visits Roman’s side of the river.

One day as roman walks through the village, a vendor at a stall calls him over and pushes a flier into his hands.

“There’s a winter festival,” he says cheerily. “We’re doing an old faery tale and need actors. You’re into that kind of thing aren’t you?” Roman distantly remembers that Thomas also is part of the local theatre group. He keeps meaning to pay them more regular visits. Roman nods along, thanking him. he’s right, it’s _exactly_ Roman’s thing, although he supposes he’ll never truly know just how right he is. he practically sprints to the auditions in the town hall.

As he looks at the script he can’t shake a feeling. He’s had those a lot since he started meeting the fae in his dreams, and only more and more so since they grew closer. Sometimes, the information will just slot itself into Roman’s head, as though it has lived there for years. He’s learnt not to question it, and to simply trust those instincts.

As he looks at the prince in the poster he just _knows_. And it’s silly, really, the two look nothing alike. But he knows that the fae prince in the story is the same as his. He knows it doesn’t make sense; there are no similarities, not even in fae features. The boy has always been the same age as him too.

The story itself is an old tale, of a human and fae prince marrying to secure peace and equality between their two worlds. Ultimately, it’s a tragedy. Its origins are as disputed as the forest, with some dismissing it out of hand, and others claiming it to be their sacred history

Roman nails the audition, that was never any worry. They try to offer him the role of the Faery prince, on account of his eyes that sometimes seem to glint red in the candlelight, and his uncanny grace as he moves across the stage. He turns it down though, he knows it isn’t the role he’s meant for.

The first rehearsal comes, and it feels right. As he goes through his lines it feels as natural as breathing. Like this is who he was meant to be. The boy playing the fae prince is bubbly, and Roman can’t help but notice he has the same glasses as _his_ fae prince. Kissing him tastes like candy on Christmas morning.

His understudy is his polar opposite. Where Patton is cold and optimistic, Janus is cold and cynical. His harsh personality feels like his prince but colder, looser too. He reminds Roman of a harsh winter wind as fireworks go off above.

Neither boy feels right.

He loses himself in the play, and when the rehearsal ends he can’t help but feel the sharp snap-back to reality like a wrenching in his soul. As everyone smiles and congratulates him on how well he took to the role, he can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

That night when he sees the prince, he can tell something is wrong. Roman had mentioned the play to him before, though he had avoided the specifics. It seemed an odd way to confess your love to a boy. Roman freezes on the thought. _Love._ He had never… he had thought about it, he had thought about the possibility of a future. The impossibility of it really. How his lips might feel… a shiver runs down his spine. But he hadn’t realised how far gone he was. Love. It feels right somehow, though he doesn’t know what to do with it. When he looks back up at the fae, his eyes are on him with such an intensity it takes his breath away.

“Teach?” he whispers. It’s an old nickname, from when they had first bonded over him teaching him all about the forest. It was the only real name Roman could call him though. The other boy flinches, barely perceptible if it weren’t for how well Roman knew him by this point.

“Actually, I…” He looks down at the ground, his shoulders shaking. Roman has never seen him so nervous before. He smiles and runs an arm down his shoulder, hoping to soothe him. “I wanted to give you something,” he finishes eventually. Roman’s eyes widen in surprise. They’ve never really exchanged gifts. Considering they met in their dreams, well Roman isn’t really sure how it would work.

“Okay,” he whispers, ignoring his questions. He feels a tremble of excitement run through him.

“My… name,” he says, and roman tenses. They’ve never shared their names. He isn’t sure what the offer means, but he knows it’s aa big one. “Logan,” the fae says. “That’s… my name is Logan.” Despite his clear nerves, he maintains steady eye-contact, holding Roman’s hand. Roman begins to speak, but Logan shakes his head. “Don’t. I… you shouldn’t tell me yours. I know you don’t understand what it means, but… I wanted to give it to you. I wouldn’t want you to give me yours without understanding.” Roman nods, though he can’t help but feel strange. He _wants_ to tell the fae- to tell _Logan_ , his name. But this seems important. He just wishes he knew why.

“Okay,” he says. “I won’t.” he leans in, and he wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t. he pulls him in and holds him tight instead. “Thank you, Logan.” The name should feel strange on his tongue, but instead, it feels like something that he’s finally found after years of missing it. they stay that way for a long time.

The day of the play approaches, and rather than nervous, Roman feels invigorated. Logan had sadly remarked that he wishes he could see it, although Roman still hasn’t told him the exact details of the play. Roman honestly tells him he wishes he could be there, although he doesn’t think he’d like him to be simply in the audience. He doesn’t say that last part.

They’re prepping costumes, doing makeup and a final read of the script. One part, in particular, can’t help but catch Roman’s attention. It’s not that he hasn’t noticed it before, he could read his lines in his sleep, but he supposes he has more cause to look out for it now.

“What does this part mean?” He asks Janus, who isn’t performing tonight unless something goes horribly wrong, instead helping Virgil in behind the scenes. Janus gives him an unimpressed look.

“It’s a _wedding_ Roman. I would hope you understand at least the core aspects of the play.”

“Yes but,” Roman sighs, deciding to ignore the sarcasm. “This part here, where they exchange names. Why do they do that?”

“Well,” Janus replies slowly. “We can’t be sure of fae traditions, but it is suspected to be an ancient fae proposal ritual.”

“Proposal?” Roman chokes, his throat suddenly feeling very tight.

“Yes, to give another their name is a very personal thing, it’s suspected that this is why in human marriage one of the participants takes the other’s last name.” He rolls his eyes, wandering off to help someone else, or perhaps just not wanting Roman’s company anymore. He supposes it doesn’t matter, the end result is the same. Roman looks down at his script, his heart fluttering with nerves that were nothing to do with the play.

He has difficulty concentrating all night, but he knows he does a wonderful job. He always does, but somehow the play doesn’t feel as comfortable as before. It had felt like a second skin before, and now he can’t get rid of the urge to shed it. he feels like an actor in his own life, and he’s desperate to simply go out and live it.

As he leaves the performance the moon hangs full above him. he catches his breath as he sees it, and behind him, someone walks up. it feels wrong somehow, they shouldn’t be there.

“Roman!” they say happily. “Are you coming to the after-party?” Patton smiles warmly at him, but Roman shakes his head.

“I… have somewhere to be,” he whispers, and the words feel forbidden. Patton frowns but doesn’t press the issue.

“Be careful,” he says with his usual soft smile. “Make sure you don’t wander into the forest, it’s a full moon tonight.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and Roman knows it’s supposed to be a joke, but he can’t bring himself to laugh. He forces a tight smile.

“Right.”

Patton seems to get the message and leaves him be. Roman closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. alone at last. It feels right. The sounds of the theatre fade away, leaving him with the gentle song of the breeze and the moonlight. He follows the path he’s walked a hundred times before, and tonight when he arrives at the river, it parts for him. He walks through the river bed, unflinching. He’s still wearing his outfit from the theatre, although he has not crown nor sword. There is nobody on the other side when he arrives. Roman keeps going, entering the forest at night for the first time.

“Logan,” he whispers. He knows he has to be in here. The forest is dark, and Roman can’t see where his feet land, but he keeps going, calling out for his prince. As he pushes through into a clearing he’s never seen before, he catches his breath.

Trees frame a pond, with rocks jutting out the side, some of them almost as large as Roman himself. It seems like the kind of place you might meet a mermaid, Roman thinks absently. There are no mermaids. On the tallest rock, however, sits a prince.

Roman can’t shake the deja vu of their first meeting. He sits hunched over, scribbling something into a notebook. The moonlight glints off of the water and onto his face, lighting his glasses in a strange way. He’s dressed differently though. Where before he seemed to be wearing perfectly ordinary, if not a bit stuffy clothes, he now wore an elegant suit. It seems woven out of the forest itself, and upon his head sits a crown of nature, branches and thistles and flora curling around- are those horns? Roman steps closer, seeing the fae traits that had perhaps never translated in the dreamscape they had spoken in so often before. His large pointed ears, the unnatural tinge to his skin. The sharp teeth that peek out from his mouth as he writes.

“Prince Logan,” he says eventually. Logan looks up with a gasp, and the moon flashes in his eyes, lighting them from within. Roman feels pinned down by his stare, but that only invigorates him. “I am Prince Roman of the human lands.” He knows his lines so well by now, they flow like they’ve been waiting to find a home in-between them for a long time. it feels far more natural than any stage performance had. When he’s done, he drops to one knee in front of Logan. he gazes up into those piercing eyes, and he knows he doesn’t care is he never finds his way back to the village.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I can’t keep kissing other people and pretending they’re you.”

He needs this, the final act. It feels like more than a story now. Feels more real than anything else in his life ever has as the fae prince stares at him, mouth slack in surprise.

Kissing Logan feels like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway i really enjoyed writing this, it was fun I've never played around with logince before so there's that. i may someday write more of this because there are a bunch of ideas I either didn't get to explore properly, or I just didn't manage to introduce at all and if inspiration strikes maybe I'll write more who knows,  
> let me know what you think of the fic! leave a comment if you can I love to hear from y'all! i was experimenting with a different style of writing so i'd love to hear your thoughts!


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